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S Quotes

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All S Quotes

“She thought about the kind of harm a person could inflict intentionally- through murder or robbery or rape- and about the kind that happened by accident, to people who weren't the targets at all, but just happened to be proximate, or in the way. Undeserving, innocent people who suffered for the crimes of others. She thought about women and children whose only crime was wandering into the blast zone, or being the son or daughter of the wrong man. The son, or the daughter, or the wife. The lady or the tiger, she thought. Truth or dare. Your money or your life.”

“She thought about their time at Bridge Builders Hospice: how people passed through those bedrooms like ghosts on wrecked rowboats, incapable of redirecting course from the approaching cliff. She had witnessed it many times: the moment dying became a letting, and the currents plunged their patients, headfirst, into waterfalls so misty it was like sailing through cloud. Resist it nor not, it made no difference.”

“She thought about this. She had analyzed it in depth. When you live alone, travel alone, exist solely on the outskirts of other people's lives, you do have time to wonder why what you want most in life is out of reach. You also have the time to tell yourself that you don't want it at all, though whether you can ever be completely convinced is something else.”

“She thought all was good. She was feeling really really happy actually. Though not surprisingly, It only took a matter of five words to make her feel as though her metaphoric beautiful wings had been torn off and shredded. Discarded in a pit among other wings that suffered the same fate. Echoes of words spoken ring through her head. Another sleepless night. Another sadness filled her heart, and where once that light was burning bright in her chest, a blown out candle remains.”

“She thought how curious it was that responses such as this--emotions, even--could run parallel with but quite separate from unhappiness. I am unhappy all the time, she thought, and that is a total occupation, but some other part of me still goes on working. I still see that things are beautiful, or significant, and that prompts a feeling. I can be angry, or pleased. But all this with detachment, as though it happened to someone else. It is as though half of me were some stranger, living independently.”

“She thought how different life might have been for her if Edward hadn’t grown up a farmer’s son. She might have lived in town in a fine house like Cedric’s. But is that what I would want? Some days, the farming life appealed to her: the fresh air, tending growing things, taking care of the animals. Other days, it morphed into little more than drudgery. And now, being alone. Well, she could do without that. It was not what she had agreed to.”

“She thought in would be awkward for both to be brought into conscious collision; and fancied that, from her being on a low seat at first, and now standing behind her father, he had overlooked her in his haste. As if he did not feel the consciousness of her presence all over, though his eyes had never rested on her!”

“She thought men were saviors... ...And she looked for more in them than what they were... Only to rescue herself from those she wished would rescue her... And isn't that the most tragic lie... The lie where we tell what we wished were true and believe it...? She had an artificial memory, a prosthesis to a past that never was... She was like a party that no one ever went to... Like a cure...without a disease... And isn't that the greatest fear of all...to be ready with the answers to questions that no one asks anymore?”

“She thought of God, who had followed Darab to be a slave for six agonizing years. Who had not helped Adin's precious Hulda when she grew sick after just seven months of marriage. Clearly, he was not a God who offered certainties. Yet somehow, they clung to him. Even Esther, who had known she might die when she approached the king without an invitation, had chosen to obey him rather than pursue her own safety. Roxannah exhaled. That seemed her own path now. Obedience, even though it meant walking under the ominous shadow of disaster. Adin said God would help her, and she believed him. Whatever the outcome.”

“She thought of her hand in his, of gripping his worn fingers with her small ones. She thought of an old dead woman in a rocking chair, because her daughter couldn't bear to leave. She thought of the Otherking, leaving his home because he could not stay. And she thought of a mother, holding her dead child and the broken cauldron of rebrith. Her hand tightened araound the broken spoon and she let the jagged waves of grief wash over her.”